


Good Boy

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Forced Feeding, Gen, Kink Meme, Stockholm Syndrome, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kinkmeme: Instead of keeping Penny in his hidden closet, the Governor instead has Daryl and has had him since before the outbreak. The Governor has been taking good care of him of course, brushing his hair and feeding him, keeping him safe from the rest of the world. </p><p>Warning: This fic contains abuse, force feeding, keeping an adult hostage, and creepy Governor, do not read if you don't like these.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

Daryl doesn’t like it when it’s dark. It makes his skin itch all over, he can’t breathe and when he can’t see what’s hiding around him it makes him want to beg to be let out again. The light hurts his eyes but he doesn’t care, it’s worth the pain to be allowed out in the light and to hear those words. Every moment in the dark he’s praying for him to come back, to hear the click of the lock and the bolts being drawn aside, and to be greeted with the flash of light that burns his eyes and makes him blink fast for a moment. Because every time it happens he gets to see him and for just a moment everything is all right and he knows he’s safe from the monsters outside.

The monsters haunted his dreams, snarling and clawing at him, biting and stinking of rot and death. He hates them, he never wants to be around them again and he has kept his promise and kept him safe. Out there on his own, he’d never had a chance and when he’d found him, oh God it had been like the world had given him another chance. There’s not a lot he remembers about before, the Doctor that checked him over when he first came here called it trauma, his brain working to hide him from the horrors it had been through, allowing him to continue to function.

He remembers Merle though. The only one who’d ever looked after him, who’d cared for him since forever and kept him safe at first. Until the monsters got him. Curling up a little tighter he buries himself deeper into his jacket, needing the comfort and safety of this enclosed feeling around his chest when he thinks about it. It’s all flashes that haunt his nightmares, Merle screaming for him to run and the monsters bearing down, hiding Merle from his sight as he did as he was told. Things got blurry after that, tears and hunger mixing with grief and the wish to die, to not be separated from his safety by the veil of death.

Daryl can recall waking up here, to the Doctor and needles, clean white sheets and a man with the most calming voice he’d ever heard. Him. He’d been so kind to him, let him cry, given him food and taken him under his personal care to get better. The people outside liked him too, even if Daryl didn’t get to see them, he knew they liked him, he always said so. It was hard to function without the ever present safety blanket of Merle beside him, the promise of safety being lost made him paranoid, flinching and barely able to cope with the new world.

So he’d kept him away from others once he was well, given him the sanctuary of his own home, his own room and closet where he could stay, their little secret between just the two of them. The trust he gave him to keep his secret was given so freely and in return Daryl had given his back, letting his mind begin to forget before and start to focus only on him. He remembers the fits he’d had, the moments when his body had fought for some reason against what his mind wanted, angry at the safety and trying to get out to take care of itself. But he was clever enough to fix that, finding a straight jacket and keeping him safely closed inside of it, the buckles at his back locking in his bad behaviour and letting him just live in the safety given to him.

He remembers when it had all slipped into place and their routine became normal, something for him to latch onto and find comfort in. Once he’d settled down to accept it, things became easier and he took care of everything for him, stroking his cheek with his thumb, smiling down at him in that soft way he had and speaking quietly so not to hurt his ears. Words shared between them and only them.

“It’s okay now pet, I’m going to take care of you.”

Opening his eyes at the sound of footsteps in the room outside he can’t help but lean forward eagerly, watching as the outline of the door glowed with the promise of light behind it. He was humming as he unlatched the locks, happy after a good day with the nice people that liked him and willing to share it with Daryl. He was so lucky to have this, to be so well cared for and not have to give anything in return.

The light blinds him for a moment, but above him a large hand tries to block it for him, giving him a moment to adjust properly. It’s such a small thing, but Daryl can’t believe that he takes the time to do such little things for someone so undeserving as him. Smiling up to him he leans into the touch as he’s helped to his feet, leaning his weight against the warmth of the other man and unable to stop from smiling as the chains are released to allow him to move. “Missed you.” He mutters, since everything had happened he doesn’t speak much, but he deserves to know.

He’s permitted to rest there for a moment, face pressed into the shoulder of his saviour, smothering himself with the scent of safety whilst a hand reaches up to finger comb his hair. “I missed you too.” The Governor chuckles and Daryl is flustered and never understands why this man would ever miss someone as weak as him. “Now come on, you know what to do.”

Daryl knows exactly what to do, the routine is burned into his mind, wishes for it repeated throughout the day until he finally gets to enjoy it in the evening. He moves quickly, grateful for The Governor to be in a good mood, the people out there must have been really nice today and the monsters had stayed away. Good days were the best. Settling on the floor in front of the armchair he can’t help but bounce a little in anticipation, even though he’s meant to sit still.

“Now none of that.” The reprimand makes him freeze immediately, the swat of the hairbrush against his shoulder is weak but a fair warning to behave, lest he wish to be punished for it. Sitting still he lets out a small sigh as The Governor begins to brush his hair, still humming that little tune between speaking. “You know I have to take care of you pet, you’re not able to do it yourself.”

“I know.” He agrees, remembering wanting to fight, anger and venom inside of him making him like nothing more than an animal, a monster just wanting to hurt and fight. It makes him feel awful, so he presses back between the other man’s legs and feels their warmth either side of him, barriers against the rest of the world.

“Good boy, you need me don’t you Daryl?” The Governor continues, brushing his hair in a soothing rhythm, letting it settle into it’s normal untidy state, a few strands swaying in front of his eyes. It’s annoying but he doesn’t want to be a bother if that’s how the he wants it. “So I can protect you, keep you here and safe from everything outside.”

Daryl nods, glancing across the room to the tanks that glow an eerie green colour, nothing natural about them. Curling his toes up away from the sight he makes himself look at them, like the Governor always does, he says it makes him stronger. The walker heads bite in the water, some gazing his way with cold eyes and making him want to fire his crossbow at them until a bolt pierced their skull. He shivers, closing his eyes and trying to force the bad thought away, glad for his jacket stopping him from lashing out, hating that there was still a streak of violence within himself. Taking a deep breath he nods more forcefully before replying. “From the monsters.”

Above him the Governor chuckles, and he hears as the hairbrush is placed to the side, giving him the signal to turn around and sit facing the man now. “And the monsters.” His voice is always so calm, even with those things snapping and watching them constantly. Daryl wonders how the man always manages to be so strong all the time, it must be exhausting. “Now I have a treat for you.”

He sits up a little straighter at that, knowing he’s blushing across the tops of his cheeks at the thought of himself deserving such a thing. “You didn’t have to do that.” To think that he’d wasted time getting him a treat instead of tending to the town, looking after the others and fighting off monsters was awful, and the fact he was pleased about it made it even worse.

“That’s not what we say when people get us treats pet.” And in an instant the Governor’s voice is hard as stone, dark and forceful as he looks down to Daryl in a way that sometimes echoes in his nightmares. It’s not the same person, but it’s the same look and though he can’t pin point where it’s from, he knows now is the time to behave.

“I’m sorry!” He’s quick to apologise, wishing he could do more than lean forward to press his forehead to the other man’s knee, whining a little as he tried to beg for forgiveness. “Thank you Governor, thank you for thinking of me and getting me a treat.” Something inside of himself is making him tremble, a ghost of something in his past making him flinch when the other man places a hand on his head and pets him gently.

“That’s better.” Daryl feels the tension in his shoulders relax when the Governor’s voice is back to normal, calm and easy with a sense of safety and warmth throughout. “You’re my good boy Daryl and good boys get treats.” It’s just a small thing, a tiny pot of honey with a picture of a bee on the front, the kind you’d steal from the continental breakfast bar at a cheap hotel and never use.

A part of him seems to remember a time when he would have scoffed at the idea of such a thing being a treat, but right now he can barely hold himself back from sobbing in gratitude. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

The Governor keeps him close as he pulls closer the bowl of oatmeal, opening the little jar of honey and pouring the thick liquid all over it. Daryl remembers when he’d first come here, how he’d hated the oatmeal and been such a pain, kicking and screaming until he’d had to be held down to be fed and the Governor’s leg hooking behind him to keep him close shows that he remembers that too. “I know my pet likes sweet things to brighten up his oatmeal.”

Of course he did, oatmeal was boring day after day, thick and gooey, sloppy and with no flavour unless the Governor treated him to something like this. He watches as his meal is stirred, the golden colour of the honey swirling into the mixture and making it look far more appetising than it usually was. Eagerly he leans forward, mouth already open and waiting by the time the Governor has the first spoonful ready. The other man chuckles, tutting at him to wait a moment, but the smile on his face shows he doesn’t really mind.

Daryl is as patient as he can be whilst the man blows on the spoonful, cooling the food and pressing it lightly against his own lips to check the temperature before holding it out to him. He eats gratefully, sucking every oat off the spoon and letting the flavour of the honey roll against his tongue. It makes it stickier than usual but he doesn’t care, enjoying every little bit of the sugar he can get and eagerly awaiting the next bite. The Governor continues talking whilst feeding him, careful with every spoonful and Daryl knows it’s rude to talk with his mouthful, so he just listens quietly and enjoys his meal.

“It’s been busy lately in the town, Milton has got the generators running double time so we can throw a little party later in the week, a way to greet new guests and let out some tension.” Daryl doesn’t know why he flinches when the Governor reaches out to wipe away a smear of porridge from his chin, but he’s not reprimanded, so he ignores it and continues eating. “It would be too much for you though my pet, we don’t want you getting over stimulated and having a fit like before.”

He can understand that, the town didn’t need him when he was like that, dangerous and no better than one of those monsters. Swallowing down a sticky mouthful he’s grateful when the Governor helps him drink a few mouthfuls from a glass of milk, washing down the gummy oatmeal and making it easier for him to continue with the bowl.

“But it should be nice and it’ll keep everyone’s minds off the Prison.” Daryl remained quiet, slowly swallowing his mouthful and ignoring when his stomach began to protest at the amount he was eating. He hated it, he knew he used to eat far more than this, but since the Governor has been feeding him his stomach just can’t seem to take as much as before. “We’re going to do something about that later, we can’t have people that dangerous nearby.”

A part of him worries for himself, this new threat something he’s unsure of and though he knows the Governor will protect him, it still makes his stomach churn a little with the worry. The next spoonful already feels like too much and there’s still a few left in the bowl but he doesn’t want to get on the Governor’s nerves when he’s already on edge.

“They’re a threat to the safety of this town and the safety of you Daryl.” The Governor continues and Daryl can feel the anger in the way he tenses, making him want to shrink down and not be a problem. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you right? I said I’d keep you safe and I will. You know I will.”

He nods hard, desperate to let him know that he understands and that it’s the one thing he doesn’t worry about. Yes he has his fears, but the Governor knew what was best for him and kept him completely safe, he hadn’t even seen a walker since he’d been brought here, well aside from the heads in the tanks. Taking in another mouthful of oatmeal it takes a lot not to gag as the spoon is shoved in far too roughly, but he holds it back and doesn’t complain when his stomach aches and begs for him to stop eating.

“Of course you do.” The Governor’s spare hand reaches up to stroke at his cheek, his thumb rubbing over his skin gently and when their eyes meet it almost feels as if the other man isn’t really looking at him. “You know you’re my pet, my Daryl and I’ll look after you.”

The stroking over his cheek is nice but he pauses at the next spoonful, feeling his stomach clench at the thought and though he knows it’s rude not to finish your meal, he doesn’t know if he can. Wriggling in place he knows he’s not meant to speak until dinner is over, but he’s not sure how to convey that he can’t eat anymore without talking.

“Now I know you’re not done, there’s still three spoonfuls left and you’re not rude enough to leave them.” The Governor’s thumb digs in a little harder and he has to swallow back a whimper at the thought of disobeying him. “Not when I even gave you a treat to make it taste better.” He’s right, he knows he’s right and he should stop being such an ungrateful brat after everything the Governor has done for him to keep him safe. Internally he tells his stomach to shut up and opens his mouth for another spoonful.

It’s thick in his mouth, the honey making it sickly sweet and he can feel every lump and bump in his mouth like maggots, pressing over his tongue and making him want to heave. But he swallows, feeling the food move down like a weight to his stomach and making him fidget in discomfort. “There’s my good boy.” The Governor coos and Daryl makes sure to focus on that voice, on how much he’s making it easier for the Governor to care for him by doing this.

When the next spoonful is offered to him he has to turn away from a moment to get control of his stomach, ignoring the queasiness and having to breathe through his nose for a few moments. He doesn’t want to be a problem, he doesn’t want to be punished and seen as ungrateful after being cared for so perfectly. Swallowing back any thought of vomiting, he opens his mouth and focuses on the praise from the other man as he tries to swallow it down. It hurts but he manages and though he shifts his weight to lean back a little more to get some weight off his stomach, it still aches and gnaws at his mind.

“Just one more, and it’s not even a big spoonful. I know you can do it. We don’t want to be ungrateful for what we have do we Daryl? Not when we have to scavenge for food as it is.” He shakes his head obediently, taking a few calming breaths before opening his lips, allowing the last few dregs of porridge to slip down his throat, a sense of accomplishment washing over him when the Governor continues praising him. “That’s my good boy. I knew you wouldn’t waste anything, I’m very proud of you.”

Daryl can hardly move he’s so full, stomach churning uncomfortably as he latches onto the words, enjoying each one as the now empty bowl was set aside, allowing the Governor to slip down to the floor with him. It’s not the right place for the Governor to be, but right now Daryl’s not sure he could move without throwing up. Gentle fingers comb through his hair, and usher him to lie down, stretching out his legs fully in a way not possible in his closet. Soothing hushes and soft fingers over his cheeks and neck keep him settled as he lies there, ignoring his bloated stomach and focussing when the Governor brings out his storybook to read to him.

He still hurts but it’s easier like this, when he can close his eyes and ignore everything wrong to just focus on the Governor’s voice, strong and safe, someone here to protect him and keep him safe. To give him what he needs since he’s incapable of doing it for himself. He was so lucky the have the Governor look after him and to get to be his good boy.


End file.
